Yuri! on Stage?
by Madam Facilier
Summary: Yūri Katsuki was an enigma in the form of a nervous wreck. Viktor knew that Yūri was capable of drawing out his eros from more than a pork cutlet bowl. He had no idea that Yūri could draw out more than that, and he could do it well. Thanks to the appearance of a costume designer, Viktor learns that Yūri was quite the thespian in college.
1. Yūri and Eros

**Author's note:**

 **Madam Facilier has returned! But I'm in a bit of a writer's block regarding my Fairy Tail fanfics. Plus I had this headcanon that I just had to write, so here it is!**

"Come on! All six of us—wait, make that seven. Is that all of us? Yes? Okay, then!"

Phichit had to move his arm several times just to get all six of the skaters plus Viktor into the shot. The coaches stood in the background, but Viktor was never one to stay in the sidelines. Which was why he slung an arm over Yūri's shoulders and smiled as Phichit took the selfie.

As he lowered his phone, a voice called from the edge of the rink. "Excuse me! Can I get a photo of all of you?"

All eyes went to a snappily dressed young man with dark brown hair holding a camera up to his face. "Sure!" Despite the many times Yūri had a camera pointed towards him today, it was a special occasion. He'd just won silver in his first assignment. What was the harm in another photo?

Even from where they were on the ice, Yūri could still hear the shutter go off several times. " _Yá yà_ ," the photographer said as he lowered his camera.

Guang Hong tilted his head. The man at the edge of the rink said something that the youngest skater knew belonged to the Chinese language, but he couldn't understand what was said.

Yūri's ears twitched. He vaguely recognized that phrase, and he was reminded of his days as a student in Detroit. But without his glasses, there was no way to be sure of who the man was.

"No way…" Phichit, on the other, moved away from where he stood with Leo and Guang Hong to get a better look at the photographer. A grin creeped onto the Thai skater's face when he saw the man's face. "Long!" Phichit spun towards the other skaters, many of them confused and only one surprised. "Yūri, it's—"

"H-He Long!" Yūri stammered. Phichit skated forward and dragged the Japanese man away from Viktor. Yūri could hear the other skaters following them from a distance.

"What are you doing here?" Yūri asked once he and Phichit reached the barrier. It came out more blunt than he expected, and Yūri feared he sounded rude. "I-I mean, it's great to see you, but I was wondering—"

An arm slipped around his waist, making Yūri jolt as Chris leaned closer to him. "Yūri, how can you be so mean? Why don't you tell us who your friend is?" The Swiss skater purred, his hand creeping lower and lower—

Viktor's hand grabbed Chris', smiling eerily behind Yūri's head at the Swiss man. "Where are you going?"

"Um…" Yūri was oblivious to the staring match behind him. "Viktor," he said, causing the older men to withdraw the smiles and look at the photographer. "This is He Long. He was one of my classmates when I was in college in Detroit."

He received blank stares from Phichit and He Long. "What?"

"Yūri…you're forgetting the most important detail," Phichit muttered.

"Wha—gah!" Yūri panicked when he noticed the gloomy aura around He Long, who fiddled with his camera.

"I see…so all I'll ever be to you is a classmate to be forgotten. Maybe I should stop designing for you…" The Chinese man murmured in despair.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't want you to have your hands full if I told them—!"

"Oh?" Now Viktor was interested, leaning forward until his head was almost between Yūri and the moping He Long. "Who is he to you, Yūri? An ex-lover?"

"V-Viktor!"

The photographer straightened his posture and greeted the other skaters with a smile. "He Long Yuan," the man said as though he hadn't been moping just seconds ago. "I'm Yūri and Phichit's costume designer."

* * *

There was no way He Long was just a classmate or a costume designer to Yūri.

One) The man was flamboyant. Not by personality, but by his dress sense. He Long seemed to favor expensive clothes à la mode, if his peacoat was anything to go by. He also oozed style that drew all eyes towards him. He Long certainly carried himself with class. Viktor was certain the man could pull off the seductive mood of On Love: Eros with ease if he was a skater.

Which was why Viktor thought that two) Yūri had some other kind of history with He Long. What else could explain why his student was so uncomfortable as they sat at a table in a banquet room—of all places—with Chris, Phichit, He Long, and Guang Hong at a restaurant?

Georgi wouldn't come—or maybe he wanted to, but Yakov was ripping into him. Leo was supposed to join them later, but Guang Hong didn't look lonely. He got along just fine with the older Chinese male as they chatted in their native language. But one of them must have said something wrong because they stopped talking and looked at each other oddly.

"I don't understand you," Guang Hong finally said with furrowed eyebrows.

"Nether do I," He Long replied. The Chinese males continued to stare at each other until the older one snapped his fingers. "Where do you come from?"

"Beijing."

"I'm from Shanghai."

Guang Hong made an "oh", nodding in understanding. The others looked on until the youngest skater took notice of them. "China has a standard language, but there are several dialects that depend on the region of the country."

"But are there similarities?" Phichit asked.

"Some," Guang Hong said. "I can speak a dialect of Mandarin, but He Long speaks a dialect of Chinese that's totally different from it. We can't understand each other at all."

"Ah…" Yūri looked deep in thought until he turned to Chris. "Isn't French the same way?"

" _Oui_ , my friend." The Swiss man draped an arm over Yūri's shoulders. "But enough about languages. Tell us how you met He Long, Yūri. I'm dying to know."

" _Da_ , Yūri." The Russian leaned closer to his student, eager to hear the story.

"W-well, He Long is a fashion design major," Yūri began. So that explained the young man's appearance. "He graduated at the same time I did."

"But how did you _meet_ him?" Viktor corrected.

Yūri fidgeted in his seat, taking in a deep breath before letting it out. "...He was in my acting class."

This made Chris and Viktor pull away from Yūri, stunned. "You took acting?" Of all the things Viktor was still learning about Yūri, this took the cake so far.

"You didn't tell your coach, Yūri?" Phichit exclaimed.

"I wanted to get my nerves under control," Yūri explained nervously under Viktor's inquiring gaze.

"It didn't seem to work, did it?" Chris noted, examining the Japanese skater's face as if it would tell him Yūri's secrets.

"Oh, it did," Phichit said, tapping his phone screen before scrolling up. "But not in the way Yūri wanted."

"He's no ham actor," He Long added. "Anyone with eyes could tell Yūri was the professor's favorite student."

"I wasn't that good!" Yūri insisted.

He Long stared at Yūri with wide amber eyes, clearly in disbelief. "Not that good? Yūri, when the professor found out you weren't going into acting, he begged on his hands and knees for you to change your mind!"

"He asked me to consider it!"

"You didn't even rehearse your role for the midterm and you got an A on the whole thing! How did you even do that?!"

"I just aced the written test, that's all!"

"Actually, it wasn't," Phichit said to Chris, Viktor, and Guang Hong. All of them sat back and listened to the two debate Yūri's "terrible" acting skills. "Everyone had to pick a role for the acting portion of the midterm exam. If they didn't do it, the highest grade possible would have been a D. For his midterm, Yūri had to act like an arrogant douche."

Yūri, arrogant? He did tend to become more distant and self-centered during competitions. But Viktor had a hard time envisioning a Yūri as arrogant as last year's bronze medalist at the Grand Prix Final. Jean-Jacques Leroy tended to rub off on people the wrong way.

Viktor's face must have betrayed his thoughts, if Phichit's next words were anything to go by. "I don't know how he did it either. Yūri had so much trouble with that role because he doesn't have a single mean bone in him."

"—and our final, when we all had to put on The Hunchback of...Notre...Dame..." He Long's voice trailed off, drawing the attention back to the former classmates. Yūri was doing his best to avoid He Long's eyes. He didn't need to: He Long had lowered his head and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"It certainly got quiet," Chris said cheerily. "Now what were you saying about The Hunchback of Notre Dame?"

Yūri flushed red and sunk into his seat. He Long looked at the ceiling and whistled. They looked incredibly reluctant to share, but Phichit gaped in realization. "Oh...Oh!" he gasped before scrolling through his camera roll furiously. "How could I forget The Hunchback of Notre Dame!"

"Do you know their secret, Phichit?" Chris, being seated directly opposite of the Thai skater, leaned forward.

Phichit let out a laugh that clearly told Yūri he was up to no good. "At the very beginning of the class, their professor told them they all had to be in a play as part of their final grade. They took acting in the summer, so it didn't get in the way of competitions," he added when Chris gave him a questioning look. Once he found what he was looking for, Phichit handed his phone to Chris. "Here you go."

Viktor had to crane his neck to see what Chris was looking at. It must have been good to make the Swiss whistle appreciatively. When Chris handed off the phone to Viktor, the Russian nearly did a double-take at what met his eyes.

No, it wasn't the knight—who could only have been He Long—who caught his attention. Viktor's eyes were on the dark-haired actor on stage with the knight. His shirt was slightly loose and unlaced, meant to show off his chest, while a hip scarf was tied at the waist and a pair of pants came down to mid-calf. The actor's hair, tied back in a low ponytail, was artfully arranged to give him an untamed look. The overall look was androgynous but seductive as well, much like the costume Yūri wore for _Eros_.

"That was one of the scenes where He Long was on stage with Yūri," Viktor could hear Phichit say.

"You were a gypsy, Yūri?" Chris asked the young man sitting between himself and Viktor.

"Not just any gypsy," the Thai skater said proudly. "Yūri was _Esmeralda_."

"What?"

"I wasn't really Esmeralda!" Yūri squeaked.

"Now that you mention it, you're right." Phichit held his chin like a wise man. "He Long, what did the producer say he wanted to do?"

"His exact words," He Long began in a low voice, his eyes still on the ceiling, "were ' _Fuck it, The Hunchback of Notre Dame goes gay_ '."

Chris guffawed while Guang Hong blushed at the obscene word that left the older Chinese male's mouth. "So what did you end up calling him?" Viktor asked. The suspense was killing him—how could they be so cruel?!

"Our producer was obsessed with Greek history and mythology," Yūri groaned.

"He was also a genius," Phichit laughed. "He Long was Phoebus, so Esmeralda became _Eros_."

Yūri could feel Viktor's eyes boring into him. He didn't need to look at his coach to know that he had that sickeningly sweet smile that hid how annoyed he really was. "Yūri~" The Russian drawled. "Why didn't you ever bring this up whenever you practiced Eros?"

"I-It's not something I like to talk about," the Japanese man mumbled.

"But Yūri~!"

"He's really embarrassed about it, Viktor," the Thai skater explained. "During the middle of the play, Yūri had to kiss He Long."

" _What?!_ "

 **Author's note:**

 **He Long is the OC I created to be Yūri and Phichit's costume designer. As mentioned above, Y** **ūri met him during his summer acting class. Phichit, on the other hand, had a tentative friendship with He Long in the beginning.**

 **While He Long and Guang Hong both speak Chinese, they're most comfortable using their local dialects than the standard. Because China is a huge country, there are different dialects of Chinese depending where you are. I like to believe that Guang Hong speaks a Mandarin Chinese dialect that's used in Beijing. He Long, on the other hand, speaks a Chinese dialect called Wu, also known as "Shanghainese". For example:**

Yá yà—"Thank you" in the Wu—Shanghainese—dialect.

Xiè xie—"Thank you" in the Mandarin dialect.

 **Also, follow me on tumblr! My tumblr handle is madamfacilier!**


	2. On and Off

**D-do you guys really like this that much?**

 **Out of everything that is on this site under my username, this has gotten the most favorites and follows in just three days for just the first chapter! The last time this happened was for my very first fanfic, Payback, which was taken down after it was reported by The Eliminators.**

 **(Yes, I still remember you. I don't forget easily.)**

 **Thank you for your support!**

 **And now, I present to you my gratitude!**

 _"What?!"_

"Oh ho~Do tell!"

There was no doubt that Chris was the one who wanted all the scandalous details. The amused tone of his voice and the not-so-innocent smile on his face gave it all away. This meant that the shocked exclamation came from either Guang Hong or Viktor. And Yūri couldn't bring himself to look at his coach.

His coach, the world-famous Viktor Nikiforov, who kissed him a few hours ago in front of hundreds—maybe even thousands— of people at an internationally broadcast event.

As Yūri tuned out of the world around him, he was convinced that best friends were no different than family. Both were all too willing to share embarrassing stories about him.

Why didn't Yūri tell Viktor about his old role as the male form of the Gypsy, Esmeralda? Come to think of it, why didn't he use that as his inspiration for _On Love: Eros_?

The name of the arrangement should have reminded him of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, where he appeared as the Gypsy. Fast, seductive, undaunted: the melody of On Love: Eros was everything that Viktor and Eros the Gypsy were that Yūri wasn't.

He remembered how months ago, he struggled to discover what _Eros_ meant to him. Back then, Yūri had said that his _Eros_ was _katsudon_. Of all the things to say! He felt so stupid after that declaration that he ran away in embarrassment! To think it could have been prevented if Yūri had remembered his role as the seductive and defiant Eros.

Then again, it came as a surprise—much like when Viktor assigned the programs for Hot Springs on Ice—when Yūri saw his role on the casting sheet on the bulletin board right outside the theater that served as their classroom.

The professor had announced on their very first day in class that, as part of their final grade, they had to appear in a play put on by the university. Yūri wanted to drop the class after that, but he wanted so badly to manage his anxiety better that he stayed. A week after that, the casting call for a play came out. Everyone in class was desperate to have their final grade guaranteed that they all tried out for The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

Everyone had to choose one of five roles for the audition: Quasimodo, Claude Frollo, Captain Phoebus, Clopin Trouillefou, and Esmeralda. After auditions, they would find out in a week who would be the five main characters and who would be kept on as side characters.

The director and producer was also the professor's teaching assistant, an older student with a unique potty mouth. The class found this out four days after tryouts. He came in looking spiteful, and there was a rumor that most of the girls in class buttered up to him relentlessly to get the part of Esmeralda.

That definitely explained why, when the casting sheet was posted, they found **Male Esmeralda/Eros**.

It did _not_ explain why Yūri's name was listed for the altered role, because Yūri had tried out for the role of the hunchback _Quasimodo_. So it shocked him that he was going to be a male version of the beautiful Gypsy.

Even though Yūri had matched Quasimodo's kindness and naivety down to a T.

Even though the director/producer/TA himself said Yūri was the best audition for Quasimodo.

And then he was given a role that was opposite of everything that he was.

Still, if it hadn't been for the role he never auditioned for, he probably never would have ended up with a friend who was more than happy to make his costumes. So long as he paid, of course. He Long might be a friend, but Yūri didn't want to give him nothing in return.

Yūri slowly came out of his reverie when he heard Chris' voice on his left. "I remember there was—how do I say it?—a more _carnal_ scene between Phoebus and Esmeralda in the book."

"S-so the play was that mature, He Long?" Guang Hong asked.

The suggestive undertone from Chris brought Yūri back to reality completely as he waved his hands frantically. "W-we didn't follow the book completely! We toned it down! There was no make-out scene!" he cried. To his right, Viktor sighed in relief.

"I don't know, Yūri," Phichit teased. "The kissing scene looked like—"

"Phichit Chulanont," He Long finally spoke, turning his head to the right to look at the Thai skater. "One more word out of you, and next season I'll turn you into a chicken."

Phichit spun his head towards the Chinese fashion design major, eyes narrowed as if challenging him to do so. There was a cheery smile on the Thai skater's face, but Guang Hong felt the urge to take cover. "Try it and I'll never pay you another yuan, He Long."

He Long gave Phichit a look of mock horror. Why did it feel like the temperature was rising in this room? "And lose the discount I give you? You wouldn't dare."

"You charge me more than Yūri, you high society wannabe fashion snob!" Phichit accused, ignoring the sharply dressed Swiss and Russian on the other side of the table.

"Well—" He Long said something in Chinese that made Guang Hong on his left burn red and look in the opposite direction as he drank his tea. "—some of us need to have standards!"

"What did he say?" Viktor asked, ignoring the bickering duo.

Guang Hong shook his head profusely. "It wasn't very nice."

"And why do you know what it means?"

Chris whistled in admiration as he picked up his cup of tea, watching the drama unfold with great interest. "I take it you are used to this, Yūri?" he asked the Japanese skater, who watched in a mix of exasperation and surprise.

"They did this a lot in Detroit," Yūri admitted. "Sometimes, I wonder how they even became friends in the first place."


	3. Satisfaction

**I...I can't believe you guys like this so much. I'm so happy! TTvTT**

 **Before we begin, I'd like to address a couple of people.**

 **To the guest reviewer** nish: **Your wish has been granted.**

Sachiel Angelo: **I was actually thinking of doing that some time in the future.**

artistofthemind: **Yeah, I get what you mean.** **I always thought that the top part of Yūri's and Phichit's costumes for the free program looked similar in style.**

Karlina101 and RatedM: **I'm glad you're enjoying this!**

Shiranai Atsune **I have not forgotten about you. However, I've reached a dead end.**

 **And to the guest reviewer** Tanuki-chan: **Ca** **n you tell me the name of the song? I'm really curious.**

Viktor Nikiforov was a number of things.

Gold medalist of five consecutive Grand Prix Finals and World Championships. Living legend of the figure skating world. Russia's national hero. Choreographer and coach to Yūri Katsuki, Japan's top figure skater.

Was Viktor getting bored of coaching? No.

If anything, he was intrigued.

Yūri Katsuki was an enigma in the form of a nervous wreck. Normally, Yūri was meek. At the banquet, he had been unrestrained. During the free skate, he was touching. But for the short program, he was _alluring_. Viktor lived to surprise others, but Yūri never failed to surprise him with the range of emotions he displayed.

None of those even came close to how dumbstruck Viktor was when he found out about Yūri's brief stint as a college thespian. A talented one, at that. What made it even worse was that Yūri was given the role of a male version of the seductive Gypsy.

And the Gypsy's name was _Eros_.

By now, Viktor was convinced that Yūri had been feigning ignorance of last year's Grand Prix Final banquet since the day he arrived in Hasetsu.

Then again, the Japanese skater was drunk at the banquet. Alcohol tended to blur the line between proper conduct and scandalous behavior. Yūri was probably too mortified to talk about it. But that didn't give him the right to pretend they never danced the night away! That was the most fun Viktor ever had at any of the stuffy banquets and Yūri was pretending that it never happened?!

It wasn't fair!

And to act as though he had no idea what Eros was when in reality, he once acted as a Gypsy who carried that name and personified it. He even went on to say that his Eros was a _pork cutlet bowl_. The nerve of that man!

Yūri said he didn't like to talk about his role. If Viktor had to guess, the kiss between Yūri and He Long's characters probably had something to do with it. It almost felt like a bucket of water had been dumped on Viktor. He had kissed Yūri on live broadcast, only to learn hours later that the adorable Japanese skater had already kissed someone else in the past, probably in front of a full house. Then again, did Viktor have room to talk?

"Aha!" Chris exclaimed, pulling Viktor out of his thoughts. The Swiss skater sat on a nearby bench with his skates laced up while the guards were still on. The gala exhibition of the Cup of China was tonight, and most of the skaters were trying to get in enough practice to perform flawlessly. Either Chris got in enough practice or he was planning to do his exhibition on the fly if he was comfortable going through his phone now.

"I knew he would have something!" The Swiss waved Viktor over to the bench and passed his phone once he sat beside him. Viktor took Chris' phone, the screen displaying a selfie posted on Instagram by Phichit years ago.

Phichit grinned widely at Viktor, giving a thumbs-up in the photo. Yūri sat in a chair, looking away from the camera with a bashful smile. Viktor could still see that Yūri's eyes were rimmed with eye liner and winged while his lips were colored a reddish-pink shade. With the supposed kiss scene in mind, Yūri was probably wearing a lip stain. But did he have to wear a color that made his lips so lush and kissable?

Viktor's eyes lowered towards the caption.

 ** _When your best friend is about to debut as an actor. So proud to be your makeup artist_** katsuki-yuri _#Showtime #BreakALeg #ButDontReallyBreakIt #HunchbackofNotreDame #OffSeason #AndNowForTheSexHair #ThisIsGonnaBeGood_

283 likes

"And now for the sex hair?!" Viktor yelled out the second-to-last hashtag without realizing it. This earned him some odd looks from the skaters currently on the ice and their coaches.

Yūri, who was in the middle of a jump, flubbed his landing once he heard Viktor. Phichit, however, smiled gleefully from hearing his old tag and skated over.

"I have other photos if you want to see them!" Phichit said enthusiastically when he reached the rink boards.

"Yes!"

" _Oui_ , my friend!"

"No no no no no!" Yūri scrambled back onto his feet and skated past a bewildered Georgi while Phichit jammed his blade guards on before retrieving his phone from Celestino. He did have to return to the ice in five minutes, though.

Phichit tapped his phone screen several times and swiped up before he found what he was looking for. Chris and Viktor were already on either side of the Thai skater before Yūri even reached the rink boards.

The same photo Viktor had seen on Chris' phone met his gaze before Phichit swiped left. Yūri's hair was noticeably longer in this picture—were extensions put in?—and tied back into the same low ponytail Viktor had seen in the photo last night. Phichit was smiling, but something definitely changed. He looked smug—almost spiteful, as if someone said something earlier to make him angry. Without any words, the Phichit in the picture seemed to say " _take that_ ".

Phichit swiped several times as though the photo insulted him in someway. His darkened face certainly seemed to suggest it. He ended up on a video and pressed play.

At the same time, Yūri ran towards them to try and stop Phichit from revealing any more. The second he was within reach, Chris pulled Yūri down to his knees and looped an arm around his neck. His hand rested firmly on Yūri's shoulder so that he could do nothing but watch his college acting final.

He Long, dressed as a knight for his role as Phoebus, swung a prop sword towards Yūri's neck at the same time he grabbed Yūri's hand to stop him from stabbing his neck with a prop knife. The blades halted, their wielders locked in a stalemate.

" _Not bad,_ " He Long/Phoebus praised, sounding impressed. " _You fight as well as a soldier._ "

" _Funny,_ " Yūri/Eros remarked, a taunting smile on his face. The Yūri in the video had a relaxed and poised air to him, completely unlike the anxiety-ridden Yūri in reality. Viktor couldn't believe that the two were one and the same person. " _I was going to say the same thing about you!_ " he finished as he pushed himself and He Long/Phoebus apart.

The clip ended too soon for Viktor's liking, but it allowed him to look at a subdued Yūri. The Japanese skater shrunk in on himself under his coach's gaze. "Yūri~Is there anything you'd like to tell me about this?"

Picking up on the awkward tension in the air, Chris let go of Yūri and approached the rink. Phichit followed after, leaving Yūri alone with Viktor.

"I-I—" Yūri tilted his head down to avoid looking into Viktor's blue eyes.

"Yūri." Viktor's gloved fingers touched his chin and lifted his head up. "You said you took acting to manage your nerves. I've seen part of your performance on Phichit's phone. Why didn't you bring that with you to the ice?"

Even when they were this close, face to face, Yūri still couldn't meet Viktor's eyes. Wasn't it just yesterday that they kissed on international television? "...It's...different," he mumbled.

Viktor frowned as a result. "Yūri. Skating and acting shouldn't be that different from each other. The difference is what you perform on."

"That's what I thought, too," Yūri said. "But...it was easier on stage."

This piqued Viktor's interest. "How?" On both the ice and the stage, all eyes were on the performer. Yūri was a wreck before his free skate yesterday, all because he was the skater to beat. Why was it so much easier for him to manage his nerves when he was acting in college?

"Because on stage, everyone knew who I was. I mean, they knew who I was _supposed_ to be," Yūri explained softly. If their faces weren't so close together, Viktor was sure he wouldn't have been able to hear Yūri. "But when I'm skating...no one knows who I am, so they're free to assume things."

"And when you skate, you think people think less of you." Yūri managed to tilt his gaze lower, giving Viktor the answer he needed.

"I thought that no matter what I did, people wouldn't be happy," the Japanese skater rephrased. "And...I never knew what exactly I should be to make them satisfied with me."

Viktor retracted his hand from Yūri's chin, only to cup the skater's face in his hands. Brown eyes widened as Viktor leaned forward until his forehead rested against Yūri's. "V-Viktor?"

"Take care of yourself first, Yūri. The one you should satisfy, before anyone else—" _Even me_ , Viktor thought. "—is yourself."

Yūri's hands reached up to touch Viktor's and—unless the Russian was mistaken—there was a light blush to his cheeks. "Thank you, Viktor."


	4. Return the Favor

Ah, gala exhibitions: the good times of wild abandon, where the only competition—if it existed at all—was how much more outlandish a skater could be than the last. Needless to say, Christophe "Chris" Giacometti lived for gala exhibitions. It was then that he could really let loose, free of the need to perform better.

After that, it was on to the final and most boring part of competitions: the banquet. Chris never understood why the organizers always saved the least exciting event for last.

Fortunately, Christophe Giacometti had a plan to keep the night from going as flat as a crêpe. It involved the glass of champagne he was filling to the brim and one Yūri Katsuki.

A year after the Sochi Grand Prix Final, Chris still wondered how exactly Yūri was able to dance in his drunken state. Was he complaining? No—not when it led to the most exciting banquet of his skating career. A series of dance battles took place that night, all of which were won—Chris reluctantly admitted defeat in his area of expertise—by Yūri.

But where on Earth did the man learn how to pole dance?!

Chris held two flutes, one of which held more alcohol than the other. If Yūri wanted to make it to the Grand Prix Final this year, he was going to have to drop that innocent sexuality act he was putting on. The Swiss only just learned of Yūri's secret history as a college actor, but he could already tell the Japanese man was very convincing. As cute as it was, Yūri Katsuki was everything but innocent and by God, Chris was going to make the Japanese skater act like it.

The Swiss skater looked around the room until he found the Japanese man standing beside a table, where he set an empty flute. If last year's banquet was anything to go by, it would definitely take more than one glass of champagne to get the shy man to drop the act. Thank goodness Yūri had gotten a head-start.

* * *

"Yūri!" The Japanese skater looked up from his empty glass of champagne as Phichit sidled up to him, holding his phone. "Take a selfie with me!"

Phichit held his phone up until he got the two of them into the screen but before he could take the shot, a voice boomed, "Yūri!"

"Chris!" Yūri greeted as Phichit lowered his phone.

The Swiss offered one of the champagne flutes he held out to him. "Drink with me, _mon ami_!"

Yūri smiled apologetically and held up a hand. "Sorry, Chris, but I've had enough for tonight." He thought back to his father, who Yūri had witnessed to be a rowdy drunk. From bits and pieces relayed to him by Phichit during his college years, Yūri was unlucky enough to inherit that trait.

"I'll take it!" Phichit plucked the flute from Chris' offering hand. This seemed to appease the Swiss man as he lifted his own flute to his lips. Before the first drop of alcohol touched his lips, a phone rang.

The Cup of China medalists looked among each other, trying to determine whose phone was ringing. Phichit shook his head at his phone while Chris patted one of his pockets. Yūri touched the pocket where he knew his phone was and—oh, it was his.

Yūri pulled his phone out to check the caller ID. He was surprised to see that someone was trying to FaceTime him. "He Long?" Yūri read in confusion.

" _Capitaine_ Phoebus?"

"What's he want at this hour?" Phichit wondered as Yūri accepted the call while he and Chris moved out of the way but stayed close enough to listen.

He Long appeared on Yūri's screen holding a hand over his eyes as if in deep thought. A curtain drifted behind him. Yūri assumed he was in a hotel room in Beijing. "Hi, He Long. What's up?"

The Chinese costume designer sighed. "Yūri...can you tell me why I got a call from a Minami Kenjirō asking me to make his costume?"

"Kenjirō? He wanted to know who made my costumes so I told him about you," Yūri explained. "I-I hope I didn't give you too much trouble?"

He Long took a deep breath as he removed his hand from his face. "Yūri...he sent me a photo of a card."

Yūri tilted his head, not knowing what He Long was getting at. "And?"

"That entitles the person who has it to six free costumes. Two of which are already used up."

"That card!" Yūri remembered He Long gave it to him when they were still in college. He Long certainly loved to be fancy with everything. The card in question had He Long's names—both his Chinese and the English rendering—written in gold calligraphy. On the back were six stamps to represent the number of complimentary costumes available. Yūri had only ever used it twice in his skating career. "After the block championship, I gave it to Kenjirō."

"Yūri," the costume designer said, leaning back in his seat. "I gave that to _you_."

"I know," Yūri answered nervously. He Long was definitely angry with him. "It's just that I don't like to use it that much and I didn't want to let it go to waste with me—"

"That was my way of paying you back for the favor you did for me."

"Uh...yes?"

He Long let out a dramatic sigh as he laid his head on the desk in front of him. "You know, maybe I _should_ start charging you," he mumbled.

"What?!" Phichit joined Yūri's side and grabbed the hand that was holding the phone. "What do you mean _start_ charging?" they exclaimed simultaneously.

He Long lifted his head and looked at the screen. "I don't charge you more than Yūri, Phichit. In fact, I haven't charged him for two seasons. You're the only one paying me."

" _What?!_ " Yūri jerked his hand and phone out of Phichit's grip. "Two seasons?"

"What's the difference?" Phichit yelled at Yūri's phone.

"What about the payments I sent?"

"What happened the yuan, He Long?"

He Long's face hit the table hard, making Yūri flinch. That had to have hurt. "One," the costume designer's muffled voice said as he held up a finger for emphasis, "I figured that all the trouble I put you through was payment enough, Yūri. Two: can you let that joke die already, Chulanont?!"

"Never, snob!"

" _Hwalyong-ah!_ " A new voice joined in, definitely from He Long's end of the connection. The costume designer lifted his head in the direction where the voice probably came from. " _Jeonyeok meokja!_ "

"Okay!" He Long called back before he looked at his phone. "I gotta go. My mom said dinner's ready."

"You're back in Shanghai?"

"Beijing's never been good to me. I couldn't stay for long," He Long explained. "You know, if the Cup of China is in Shanghai next year, I'll show you around."

" _Yá yà_. Have a good night, He Long," Yūri said.

" _Wǎn ān_ ," were the last words from He Long before the connection cut off.

Yūri looked at Phichit, who held his champagne flute so tightly, it looked like it would shatter any second. "P-Phichit?"

"That...that...that Shanghai jerk!" Phichit gulped down his glass and only then did Yūri notice it held more alcohol than usual.

Chris silently sipped his glass as he watched Phichit slam down the flute and grab another one. The night was more entertaining than Chris thought it would be without an inebriated Yūri. "So what kind of favor did you do for He Long, Yūri?" he asked curiously.

"That's the problem," the Japanese skater admitted. "I don't know."

Once Phichit was finished with his current glass, he turned to Yūri. "How could you even kiss that snob, Yūri?!"

"I didn't enjoy it!"

"That's not what the video clip says! I swear I saw a tongue or two!"

Chris almost choked on his champagne in laughter while Yūri stuttered, "P-P-Phichit!"

"If you don't mind, I wish to see the kiss scene," Chris said, a mischievous look on his face.

"No no no no!"

Yūri tried to snatch Phichit's phone as he scrolled through his camera roll. The Thai skater glared at his phone as he tried to find the incriminating video. "Where is that thing?"

"It's your fault you decided to go for the largest storage size!"

 **Author's note:**

 **Mon ami—** my friend, **in French.** **In the same language, capitaine is "captain".**

 **Wǎn ān is Mandarin for "** good night".

 **Jeonyeok meokja** **is Korean for** "Let's eat dinner".


	5. Between Coaches

Viktor had been to many a closing banquet after competitions and gala exhibitions. Throughout his skating career, the routine never changed. Look clean and professional, attend the banquet, and greet the officials and sponsors present.

Or, as Yurio once paraphrased Yakov after the old man caught him trying to wear sneakers to a banquet: "Dress up, show up, suck up, and God help me if I fuck up!" Even when his friends and fellow competitors were there, the Russian swore that he almost fell asleep standing on his feet one year.

Last year's Grand Prix Final banquet was—undeniably—one to remember. Yurio tried break-dancing—and failed miserably—while Chris smuggled in his dance pole and proceeded to scandalize the attendees. Viktor himself engaged in flamenco and tango. The memory of that wild night brought a smile to Viktor's face, and it was all because Yūri Katsuki had too much to drink.

Speaking of the Japanese skater...

Viktor watched closely as Yūri put down an empty champagne flute before Phichit pulled him in for a selfie. Chris—the sly devil—came out of nowhere holding two flutes, one of them filled with significantly more champagne than the other. The Swiss skater offered the flute with more alcohol to Yūri, who held up a hand and said something with a nervous smile on his face. From where Viktor stood, talking to an official, he couldn't hear Yūri's response.

He must have refused because Viktor saw the smile on Chris' face slip ever so slightly. Yūri definitely remembered last year's banquet and probably wanted to avoid embarrassing himself again.

Phichit grabbed the champagne flute meant for Yūri. Chris shrugged nonchalantly and made to drink to from his own flute until he met Viktor's eyes. The Swiss man's eyes darted towards Yūri, but not without giving Viktor a sidelong wink.

Knowing Chris, if he was planning to reenact the banquet, then the dance pole couldn't be far. As Viktor looked away with a mischievous smile, his gaze landed on a sour Georgi staring at someone across the room. Viktor followed his old rinkmate's gaze towards Anya, who made a show of giggling at something said by the man holding her arm.

Georgi always did have the worst luck in the romance department.

Excusing himself from the official, Viktor crossed the hall in search of Celestino Cialdini. Now that he was a coach, congratulations were in order. It wasn't too difficult to find the Italian enjoying a drink. "Ciao ciao, Celestino!"

The Italian man waved as Viktor joined his side. "Ciao ciao!"

"Congratulations on your gold medalist!"

Celestino swelled with pride at the mention of his student. "And you for your silver. You're quite the coach, Viktor. Yūri has definitely improved a lot more with you."

"I only helped him realize what he already had," Viktor said. "But I'm sure if he applied his lessons from his acting class, he would have won gold."

"If he learned to not be so scared on ice like he was on stage, Yūri would have given you a run for your money long ago, Viktor!" Celestino must have had too much to drink because he didn't question how Viktor knew about Yūri's college acting days. Or maybe he figured that as Yūri's coach, Viktor would have learned eventually. "But no! Why didn't he?" Celestino cried before downing his champagne.

"Yūri said that he was afraid he couldn't live up to expectations."

Celestino lowered his glass and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Yūri told you that?"

"He didn't say anything to you?" Viktor asked.

"No, no," Celestino corrected. "It's just that when _I_ asked him, he gave me a very different reason."

"Oh?" Now Viktor was curious.

"Yūri told me that he wasn't as scared on stage because there was no one to beat." Celestino set his empty glass aside, looking deep in thought. "I really wish he brought that mindset with him to the ice. He was so different on stage—more confident. He looked like he was enjoying himself, too."

Viktor could hear Yūri and Phichit's voices across the room shouting something about two seasons. "Did it help that he was his teacher's favorite student?"

"Was he?" Celestino wondered. The expression on his face told Viktor plainly that he just revealed something that Yūri never told Celestino. It made Viktor secretly swell with pride, like they were playing a game of "Who Knows Yūri Katsuki?". "Yūri said that the professor was pretty unfair, but I think it had to do with the fact that he didn't get the part of Quasimodo."

"He tried out for Quasimodo?" Whatever pride Viktor felt earlier vanished with a _poof_ as he realized he was dealing with an opponent who coached Yūri longer than him and therefore knew more about the Japanese skater than he did.

Thinking about it, it made sense that Quasimodo was Yūri's primary choice. The hunchback was shy and naive...he was everything that Yūri was. Viktor was prepared to bet all that he had—except for Makkachin—that Yūri had tried out for Quasimodo because he would barely have to act the part. Much like when he assigned the music for Hot Springs on Ice. The look on Yūri's face clearly told Viktor that the Japanese skater had expected to skate to Agape. "Somehow, I'm not surprised," Viktor admitted.

"Personally, I think whoever gave Yūri the part of the Gypsy had the right idea," Celestino said. His thoughtful expression was replaced by one of rage, as though he were remembering something unpleasant. "When I went to his performance...even if it was all an act, the other actors were behaving more like the beast that they were making Quasimodo out to be. If Yūri had gotten that role...I'm pretty sure he would have thought that's what his classmates really thought of him."

It made Viktor sad, now that he knew Yūri thought he was only good enough to be the deformed hunchback. That the Japanese skater was willing to don the hideous face of Quasimodo and subject himself to scorn and abuse. Viktor thanked the stars that Yūri hadn't gotten the part. That would have been a different story, one that probably ended in disaster.

 _"THAT SHANGHAI JERK!"_ Viktor and Celestino turned in the direction of Phichit's voice, as did the other attendees. The Thai skater proceeded to down a glass of champagne while Chris drank his own, looking pleasantly amused by the turn of events.

"The Shanghai...ah, Phichit must be talking about that boy who played Phoebus," Celestino said.

"Do you know anything about why Phichit...doesn't like He Long?" Viktor almost used the word 'hate' but refrained from using it. Hate was a powerful emotion—and a poisonous one, too. In reality, that was the only word that could accurately describe Phichit and He Long's cat-and-dog interaction the other day. It was almost as though they only put up with each other because of Yūri.

"If they didn't like each other, He Long wouldn't be making his costumes." Celestino reached for another flute of champagne, holding it unsteadily. "I do know that he is more Yūri's friend. He's a good kid, but I thought he was too predictably dramatic."

Viktor reached for the champagne flute in Celestino's wavering grip and set it aside. "I think you've had enough for one night, Celestino."

"You should have seen him that night, Viktor!" The older coach boomed, slapping a hand to the Russian's back. Viktor almost had the air knocked out of him. "He was beautiful—and that was the most beautiful rendition of ' _God Help the Outcasts_ ' I'd ever heard!" Whatever Celestino was remembering, he looked and sounded like he was on the verge of tears.

" _'God Help the Outcasts'_?" If Celestino was saying what Viktor was thinking, the Russian was going to die of shock. "You mean he _sang_?"

"Yes! The Hunchback of Notre Dame was a musical!" Celestino looked at him with narrowed and muddled eyes. For an Italian, he didn't hold his drink well. "Didn't Yūri tell you?"

"No!"

It was clear that Celestino was the winner of "Who Knows Yūri Katsuki?", but Viktor couldn't bring himself to care. He was trying to imagine a poised and confident and worry-free Yūri—that could _sing_.

As Viktor pressed a finger to his lips, Phichit ran past him laughing like a madman. "I found it, Chri—oof!" Yūri tackled him from behind and a phone landed on the floor. The skaters scrambled to their feet, fumbling with the fallen phone that ended up in Yūri's grasp.

Phichit screamed as Yūri ran off with his smartphone. "Chris, quick! Catch him!" The Swiss and the Thai ran after the Japanese skater, going so far as to leave the banquet room.

Viktor was unfazed by the events that transpired, as though seeing two people chase after a man with a phone was an everyday occurrence for him. "Well, now _that_ ," he said to no one in particular, a sly smile forming on his lips, "changes everything."


	6. God Help the Skater

The moment he woke up to Celestino frantically shaking him, screaming that they had to get to the airport in two hours, Phichit Chulanont knew that the day was going to suck. Waking up with a hangover didn't make it any better.

Phichit stuffed his pajamas into his suitcase as soon as he had his clothes on. He didn't remember putting them on after the banquet. Now that he thought about it, he didn't even know how he got back to his room. Phichit could only guess that either Celestino or Yūri brought him back.

After sweeping over the room one last time to make sure neither of them forgot anything, Phichit reached for his phone to check the time. A series of texts from an unfamiliar—in the sense that he never remembered entering the information—contact distracted him.

 **Chris-GC**

 _Bonjour, Phichit! This is Chris, just so_

 _you know._ _I added my number to your_

 _phone last night._

 **Chris-GC**

 _You won't remember because you_

 _blacked out_ _and I had to take you up_

 _to your room._

 **Chris-GC**

 _Ps you should set up a passcode._

Celestino ushered Phichit out the door as the skater texted back a thank you. It was when they were in the elevator that Phichit received a response.

 **Chris-GC**

 _De rien. By the way, you were right._

 **Phichit**

 _About what?_

Dots appeared, indicating that Chris was typing. Just as Phichit was trying to think of what the Swiss man was referring to, his response appeared.

 **Chris-GC**

 _I did see a tongue in that kiss scene._

Ah, so that's what it was about. Phichit was glad to see that someone agreed with him. While Yūri and He Long—the Shanghai snob—vehemently denied that they Frenched it on stage, Phichit swore that he saw at least one tongue during the performance and the recorded video. The Thai skater had no idea how Yūri didn't throw up afterwards—or maybe he did when he fled backstage after the scene.

It was only when they were in the taxi that Phichit sat up, clarity flooding his mind as he unlocked his phone and stared wide-eyed at Chris' last message. Phichit didn't remember showing Chris the kiss between Phoebus and Eros—hell, he never even showed Viktor, no matter how much he wanted to.

 _Ps you should set up a passcode._

 **Phichit**

 _Chris...what did you do with my_

 _phone_ _last night?_

Phichit felt his palms become sweaty when the only response he received from his new contact was a smirking emoji.

* * *

Whatever was on Phichit's phone, Viktor knew he had to find some way to get his number and ask for more evidence of Yūri's college acting days. What else could make his student steal his best friend's phone and hightail it out of the banquet?

Phichit and Celestino were nowhere in sight, so that left asking Yūri if he had any media mementos of his acting final. But with how private the Japanese skater was, there was no chance of getting anything out of him. Plus, according to Chris—who Viktor met after the party while the Swiss had a Japanese and a Thai over each shoulder—Phichit ran headlong into Yūri and they knocked out on the floor. There were no serious problems but while they sat at an airport cafe as they waited for their plane to come in, Yūri pressed a cold bottle to his forehead.

They were joined by Chris, who had a strange smile on his face like he knew something that they didn't. It quickly morphed into worry as he peered at Yūri's face. "It still hurts?"

Yūri nodded slowly.

"Do you mind if I put on some relaxing music?" The Japanese skater shook his head this time, allowing Chris to search for a tune. The music began to play and Chris stared at his phone, likely looking through social media.

"What made you want to listen to ' _God Help the Outcasts'_?" Viktor asked once he heard the opening lyrics, sung by a man.

"I was in the mood for The Hunchback of Notre Dame," Chris replied. "It took me a while to find a male version that sounded good." Viktor had to admit Chris had a point. After Celestino generously told him about Yūri's musical number, Viktor had listened to various versions of ' _God Help the Outcasts'_ for the rest of the night. He lost some hours he could have spent sleeping, but Viktor wanted to imagine what Yūri could possibly sound like when he sang. The Russian had no idea where Chris found it, but the rendition he was playing sounded a lot like what Viktor thought Yūri would sound like.

As he thought that, Yūri's eyes widened in horror as he looked at Chris, who smiled widely in return. Yūri then stared at whatever the Swiss was looking at on his phone, paling faster than Yurio losing his temper. "Chris…how did you get this?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"What is it?" Viktor reached for Chris' phone, curious to see what could make Yūri as pale as ice and Chris grin like the Cheshire Cat. His jaw dropped when he saw Yūri on Chris' screen.

There was Yūri, wearing his Gypsy costume. There was Yūri, opening his mouth to project the heartfelt plea of a song to anyone who would listen. There he was, singing ' _God Help the Outcasts'_.

"How _did_ you get this?" Viktor echoed.

"I may have stolen a video from Phichit's phone," he could hear Chris say.

"May have?!"

"I could not resist!"

Of course he couldn't. Who could, after discovering another layer to the enigma that was Yūri Katsuki? Viktor slowly tuned out of the world around him, eyes and ears only for the Yūri in the video. Celestino was right: he _was_ beautiful. Yūri hit each note of the pleading melody wonderfully—and he also had a somber tone that made Viktor want to cry. Out of pride or sadness, he had no idea. He would admit that he sniffled at least once.

When the video ended with Phichit hollering over the rest of the crowd's applause, Viktor looked up. Chris smiled smugly at Yūri, who covered his eyes to hide his embarrassment. "There's nothing to be ashamed about, _mon ami_ ," Chris assured. "I thought you were fantastic. Your coach does, too."

"I messed up a line," Yūri mumbled. His hand covered his eyes but did nothing to hide the blush that was beginning to form. "Near the beginning, i was supposed to say _"I shouldn't"_ but I ended up saying _"how dare I"_."

"I thought it was better that way," Viktor said.

Yūri gingerly removed his hand to look at him, his cheeks still pink. "You do?"

"Be proud of yourself, Yūri." Chris patted the younger skater's back in a reassuring manner as Viktor sipped his drink. "In fact, this is one of my favorites. Right after your kiss scene with _Capitaine_ Phoebus!"

"What!" Yūri's head spun towards the Swiss while Viktor nearly choked on his coffee. He swallowed, but Viktor was left with a fire in his lungs. "Chris...please tell me you didn't..."

Chris took his phone back from Viktor before the Russian could blink, locking it before waving it tauntingly. "I must say, you were very bold."

Both Viktor and Yūri made a grab for the phone but Chris moved his arm back and stood up. "Please, Chris, don't share it online!" Yūri begged.

"Don't worry, I won't share this anywhere!"

"You'll share it with me, won't you?" Viktor asked.

This time, Chris threw his head back and laughed. " _Jamais_!"

"Chris!"

"My flight is here! _Au revoir, mes amis_!"

Viktor watched as his best friend and former competitor dashed off. He was ticked off, but not at Chris. No, Viktor was angry at himself. Because for a moment, even though he didn't know it at the time, he held evidence of the (in)famous kiss scene between Eros and Phoebus.

And he let it slip from his fingers. Quite literally.

"Yūri~" Viktor slowly turned his head to look at his student, smiling widely. "You wouldn't mind giving me Phichit's contact, would you?"

* * *

 **Translation notes:**

 **Some new foreign vocabulary that showed up in this chapter.**

 **De rien is French for** "it's nothing". **It's the French way of saying "You're welcome".**

 **Jamais, in the same language, means "** never".

 **Au revoir, as many people might already know, is a way of saying "** good-bye".

 **Mes amis means** "my friends". **It's the plural form of** mon ami, which means my friend.


End file.
